Sprookjesachtig
by Clar the Pirate
Summary: A series of stories that grew while I was writing 'From Andersen Sanders' - fairy tales for the women it glanced over.


_Randalish: I'm not convinced any of these stories are_ actually_ sprookjesachtig, but I wanted a word for 'fairy tale' without the word 'fairy' in it and it's the only one I now know._

* * *

**A fairy tale for Annah**

"And the further the man in his boat built of turnips got from shore, the further his boat sank in the water, until there was nothing left but the garden-stake mast stuck in one solitary turnip bobbing along with the man clinging for dear life. But the man who built a boat out of turnips was very lucky for who should appear but the man who planted seaweed in his garden!

"'What do we have here?' asked the man who planted seaweed in his garden, 'Why it's you! You're the man who made fun of my garden and told me not to waste the soil.'

"'Oh, please," begged the man who built a boat out of turnips, "take pity on me for I am far from shore and sure to drown!'

"The man who planted seaweed in his garden thought for a while as the other bobbed up and down in the waves. He had been insulted most cruelly, even though he couldn't have known any better because what he knew was the building of boats not the planting of gardens. But with a sure nod, the man decided to forgive his insulter and held out his hand to allow the other man to leave his turnip craft for a sturdier vessel.

"And that is why the Danmarches are ruled by men who build boats out of wood, because they are benevolent and merciful – and why we should never take Søren and Mikkel's brotherly letters to heart because they are stupid _farmers_ who say mean things to people who don't know what to plant in a garden, and besides would undoubtedly make a boat out of turnips if they ever got the idea into their stupid heads to try.

"Do you feel better now?"

"You tell that story better than _anyone_," Annah sighed.

"Of course I do," said Annah's brother, "I am far too clever for my own good."

He had been told that today by Mr Lærer, the tutor of Annah's future husband (just as soon she finished being ten and could start growing up; her brother was already _twelve_), and was repeating it at every opportunity like he always did; wearing it in so it became just one of those things he was always saying instead of an insult that could be used against him. That was another way Annah's brother was far too clever for his own good.

"You must go to sleep now," he was telling her. "We're going to the river tomorrow, and you must not be sulky because I am looking after you."

He was being presumptuous but Annah decided to let it be for once; if he thought he was getting his way he would leave sooner. She wanted to look at her dream.

She had left the side of her governess for a meticulously-judged twenty minutes while they were in town, and gone to play with a group of merchants' children she knew who took to an empty shop with a faded green door. A magician used to live there, they told her, back in the rat plague days and no one ever goes in. Annah had thought that very silly because her brother had told her there was no such thing as magic except in books, so there couldn't be any magician. And to prove it, she had marched up to the door and pushed it open.

There was a person inside who smiled and said, "Yes?"

The other children had scattered but Annah's feet were rooted to the ground. She was scared but pretended not to be; that was what her brother would have done.

"Annah Sanders, ward of the River," the person greeted her.

"I am the ward of Her Majesty the Queen of the Danmarches. I don't really like the river." It was where she had first met her husband, but that hardly made it any better.

"I don't expect you will. I am sorry for your loss – here," the person went to a dusty shelf (only then did Annah notice that there were shelves and they were filled with balls all of different colours, shining softly in the dimness of the empty shop) and pulled down a ball that glimmered with silver light like Fransk champagne, "a dream for you. Be sure you dream it tonight."

Annah didn't understand what was going on and almost refused to take the ball, but then she realised that this was magic, and if she had it, she would know more about magic than her brother.

Annah's brother finally left after one last admonishment about going to sleep _straight away_. Annah stuck her hand under her pillow and pulled out the ball. It was still glowing and silvery. She turned it over trying to figure out how to make it work, so intent she did not feel herself begin to dream.

.o.

I press my fingertips into my eyes trying to clear the dark spots from my vision – whoever did the embroidery and embellishment on my gown certainly achieved eye-watering scintillation.

"Are you crying?" My brother appears in the mirror over my shoulder, one eyebrow raised in elegant concern.

"I am eighteen, at the height of whatever beauty I might claim to have, and yet, I swear, my brother is looking prettier on my wedding day than I – what is a well-bred lady to do _but_ cry?"

"Well, darling, that you wouldn't let me see the dress beforehand was entirely your own fault."

"How could I have been so silly?" I wonder. "Will you ever forgive me?"

"And besides," he continues, ignoring me, "it's one thing for the bachelor brother of the bride to be wearing peacock blue but quite another for the bride to do so when she should at least be _trying_ to pretend she's demure. Look at you." He takes one of my hands and spins me in a slow, graceful circle. Tiny gems sparkle bright as stars. "You are impossibly beautiful today. Perfection, as no woman ever was or will be – no wonder the river tried to take you away from us."

His hands wrap around my shoulders in a rough hug and he presses a kiss to my temple.

"Are you happy?" he asks.

I watch my smile in the mirror to make sure it is. "Yes."

"And you do love him?"

"Of course," I say and my brother smiles like the sun.

I don't quite though, not as much as my brother loves the man I've been calling my husband since I was ten. And I'm not sure that he loves me as anything other than the sister of his best friend and a sensible match for a crown prince. But to make my brother so blindingly happy, we would swear to anything.

In the light of my brother's smile, I can be what he calls me. Perfect.

* * *

_Man, did I ever kick myself when I started speculating on Annah's character with reviewers and realised I'd killed off one of the most interesting persons in the story before she'd had a chance to appear._

_So this is her, the night before she died in the river. The Captain says I should have given her a happier dream, but the truth about Annah is that she and Anders were two against the world and she would have done anything for him. They were in most ways the mirror image of each other, and when she was taken from him, Anders refused to allow the possibility that any female could match her._


End file.
